A Night Out of the Woods
by fleurofthecourt
Summary: Andy and Ephram's trip to the wildlife preserve does not leave Andy unscathed; Harold comes to the rescue. (Episode Tag to s1ep5: Deer God; Harold/Andy)


Harold tried to fight back his disappointment as he glanced at his caller ID. It was not, as he had hoped, Andy calling to congratulate him or even acknowledge that he had won an award. Although he had had countless members of the town do so already, he felt that it would be much more satisfying coming from Andy.

Instead, he was faced with an unknown number, and he half considered not answering.

"Abbott residence, Harold speaking," Harold said, or rather, tried to say. He was cut off abruptly by a rather frantic sounding Ephram.

"Hold on a moment, I'll get Amy for you," Harold said as he veered towards his daughter's room. As he did, it occurred to him that he could ask Ephram if his father had read the article.

"Dr. Abbott, listen to me. I'm not calling for Amy. I was looking for you. It's my dad. We were in the woods, and he tripped or fell or something. It looks like his head was bleeding. It's not now," Ephram trailed off. "I thought you could help."

"Where are you?" Harold asked, racing into the front hallway as he grabbed his doctor's bag. "Specifically. Amy said you and your father were chasing deer or some such nonsense in the nature reserve."

"I'm calling from a phone booth at the edge of the campground," Ephram said. "On the south side of the park by where Irv dropped us off."

"And," Harold asked, half dreading the answer, "where is your father?"

"He's lying next to the campfire we built," Ephram said.

"He tripped by the campfire?" Harold asked. "He didn't fall into the fire did he?"

"No, no. We were in the woods; we got separated," Ephram said, and Harold heard some hesitancy in what Ephram was saying. He imagined he wasn't getting the whole story, but considering how strained the relationship between Ephram and Andy seemed to be, he was hardly surprised. "When I found him again, he was almost back to the campground, and he was unconscious. I'm not sure what happened. I tried to carry but mostly dragged him back to the campsite because it wasn't very far. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I didn't want to leave him in the woods. I didn't know what else to do."

"Ephram, calm down. I'm going to leave and meet you there as soon as I can. But before I do, I need you to answer a few questions for me. Is your father conscious now?"

"No," Ephram answered reluctantly.

"Did you check to see if he was breathing? If he had a pulse?"

"Yes; he's breathing. He has a pulse."

"That's good," Harold said with an odd sense of relief. His heart seemed to be beating faster than it normally did in these kinds of emergency situations. "Go back to your father, and I'll be there as soon as I can. I promise."

"Okay, good," Ephram said.

Harold hung up his phone, trying hard to ignore the wash of foreboding settling in his chest. From what Ephram had said, there was no real reason to be overly worried, but he couldn't help it. Andy Brown was many things, but a nature scout was not one of them.

Harold heard Ephram shouting for him before he saw him.

"Where is he?" Harold shouted as he jogged towards Ephram's voice.

When he saw Ephram, he was gesturing towards Andy, who was lying on top of one of the sleeping bags with a thin blanket lying over him, looking completely panic stricken. Harold hurried past Ephram and kneeled next to Andy's still form, setting his doctor's bag beside him.

As he began to check Andy's vital signs, he noticed that the hair along his forehead was matted with blood. Trying not to fixate too much on that, he concentrated on one of the man's seemingly endless follies, he commented lightly, "I still can't believe you've been using that orange backpack of all things. It looks so completely unprofessional. A matter I will take up with you again when you're conscious, I assure you."

"It's not the best fashion accessory, I agree. But I did find some gauze in there," Ephram replied, shocking Harold out of his reverie. He'd almost forgotten Ephram was there.

"I can see that. I don't think the gauze is necessary anymore, though" Harold lifted Andy's head, brushed his hair back from his forehead, and gently undid Ephram's earlier handiwork, looking rather relieved, "The bleeding probably made this look much more serious than it actually is."

"How so?" Ephram asked.

"Head wounds tend to bleed heavily no matter the severity. This doesn't seem like it's particularly severe. However, we should probably take your dad home and keep an eye on him. He probably has a concussion."

With Ephram muttering about Andy's lack of common sense in nature and how their trip into it had been bound to end this way and Harold listening stoically, the two of them carried Andy inside and set him down on the couch. As they did so, Harold mused on Andy's parenting antics, as the trip had clearly been an attempt to build a stronger rapport with Ephram, though clearly Ephram had not seen it that way. Then after a long moment of silence, Harold looked back up at Ephram.

"You said the injury wasn't that severe. That means he's going to be okay then?" Ephram asked, looking worried.

"He should be fine," Harold answered. "But I can stay until he wakes up just to be sure."

"I could call you if he seems like he needs you," Ephram said

"You're not a doctor; you won't know if he needs me," Harold said matter-of-factly.

"Fair enough. Good night, Dr. Abbott," Ephram said, turning for the stairs.

A few minutes later, Harold heard light footsteps on the porch. He moved to open the door before the visitor could knock.

"'Evening, Nina," Harold said.

"Dr. Abbott. I saw you and Ephram carrying Andy inside. Is he alright?"

"He has a concussion, hit his head on a tree by the looks of it; he should be fine. But I wanted to talk to him just to be sure," Harold said.

"Well, I just wanted to check. Let him know I hope he feels better and that perhaps he should stay away from trees," Nina said with a laugh, then as she began walking back to her house she called out to him. "By the way, I saw about your award in The Pinecone. Congratulations."

"Thank you, Nina. Goodnight." Harold said with a slight grin that widened when he saw the Brown's copy of The Pinecone lying untouched on the sidewalk. He went to pick it up before walking back inside. He then sat down in the armchair across from the couch, looking intently up at Andy every so often as he continued to sleep and reading about the other goings-on in Everwood until he nodded off himself.

A few hours later, Harold woke to the crisp smell of cinnamon beneath his nose.

"Harold, here," Andy said jovially handing a mug to him. "I didn't want to wake you up, but I also didn't think you wanted to sleep in the armchair all night. You'd have a horribly stiff neck."

"You're right about that," Harold agreed as he took the mug, stood up, and stretched. "But, Andy, what are you doing making tea at this time of night? Despite your ridiculous cheerfulness, you're an injured man. And as your doctor, I suggest you go back to sleep."

"And when exactly did you become my doctor?" Andy asked with a warm smile as he walked back into the kitchen. "I don't remember asking."

"A few hours ago when your son called me in a panic because you'd hit your head on a tree or some such nonsense," Harold said as he followed Andy. "What were you even thinking out there? You had brand new boots on, no sunscreen, and Irv dropped you off there with his bus? So you could take a deer back to its home? Your insanity never ceases to amaze me."

"I will take that as a compliment," Andy said reaching for his kettle to pour a second mug of tea.

"Of course you will," Harold said watching Andy anxiously.

"And at least I know he cares," Andy said with a thoughtful grin, setting the kettle back on the stove. Then he gripped onto the counter as, Harold suspected, a wave of dizziness struck him, "Although I'd prefer if tree attacks weren't involved in these kinds of revelations."

"Of course, Ephram cares. But he's a teenage boy. He's not going to show it," Harold said in a rush as he gripped Andy's shoulders to steady him and began leading him back to the living room. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Andy said. Then upon seeing Harold's disbelieving stare, he added, "Really. Just a little dizzy. You know as well as I do that I'll be fine with some rest."

"With some rest," Harold repeated emphatically. "Exactly. Let's get you back to the couch."

"No, you take the couch; I'll sleep in my room," Andy offered, maneuvering towards the staircase as Harold tugged him in the other direction.

"I'm not going to have you fall down the stairs," Harold told him as he gently pushed Andy back onto the couch and sat back down in the armchair, "After I rescued you from the woods."

"I think rescued is a strong word," Andy murmured sleepily as Harold pulled a blanket over him.

"Is it? I think you should count yourself lucky to have a small town doctor, willing to drive out into the middle-of-nowhere, as your friend," Harold said. Then glancing at a copy of The Pinecone which was lying on the floor, he added smugly, "Not to mention an award-winning small town doctor."

"Award-winning, you don't say?" Andy asked. "Which award?"

"You didn't see the article in The Pinecone about it?" Harold asked with barely feigned surprise.

"No. But I think I saw the paper somewhere when I got up to make tea before," Andy said. "If you can find the article, you could read it to me."

Harold picked the paper up and sat down in the armchair once again, and although he knew exactly which page the article was on, he made a show of rustling through the pages, "Ah, here it is."

Andy, bemused by Harold's antics, stifled a laugh as he adjusted himself against the pillows, "Well, I'm ready for a bedtime story then."

"If you're going to mock me, I'm not going to read it," Harold said, a flash of hurt going through his face.

"I'm not mocking you?" Andy said, looking confused.

"So saying my article would put you to sleep, wasn't an insult?" Harold asked, assuming that it most certainly had been.

"Not at all. I'd really like to hear about your award. If I do fall back asleep, I lay all the blame on my concussion. I promise," Andy said genuinely, looking intently up at Harold. "Now, I'm all ears."

"Story time it is then," Harold said, trying not to let Andy see how widely he was grinning. He then began to read while Andy listened raptly.

"As large medical practices become more and more standard, it is comforting to know that some doctors still learn and remember more about their patients than merely their medical conditions. This year our own hometown physician Dr. Harold Abbott has received the Colorado Medical Board's award for Excellence and Dedication in Medicine. Although his recent fellowship has no doubt contributed to his success in the medical world, it seems more likely to those who have met Dr. Abbott that his dedication to the Everwood community, participating annually in events such as the Fall Thaw festival, has been what has truly defined his character as a family doctor. Many of the readers of this article have no doubt encountered Dr. Abbott not only in his office but also the on street or at the local grocery store..." Harold trailed off as he noticed Andy's eyelids blinking wearily.

"It seems my news isn't any competition for your concussion," Harold commented, more dryly than he really intended. He folded the paper and set it back on the coffee table, "I really should let you get some rest."

"I'm sorry to say that I think you're right," Andy said as he tried to keep his eyes open and focused on Harold. "But I really must commend you, that is a rather prestigious award. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Harold said, smiling half-heartedly as he sat in contemplation for a long while. Andy respecting him for receiving the award, that was all he had wanted, wasn't it? Why, then, did he feel unfulfilled? Was it just because he didn't finish reading the article? In all honesty, the most pertinent bit had been the award, hadn't it? Harold shook his head slightly wondering what was the matter with him.

Then as he looked down at the man he was so used to arguing with, over, often, completely pointless things, being blissfully quiet, he realized he knew the diagnosis exactly. Shaking his head at himself, because clearly he had lost it, he leaned down and softly kissed Andy on the forehead.

Then feeling that his presence was really no longer required and had, perhaps, been overstepped, he stood up and headed for the door. He made it less than a foot before Andy's hand curled around his, "Don't go."

"I... thought you were asleep," Harold said, startled, pulling his hand back.

"I'm glad you thought so," Andy said. "Tell me you still would have done that if you thought I was awake."

"Unlikely, perhaps," Harold said. Then, in a vain attempt to derail whatever it was he had started, he told Andy that he should probably go because he really did need to get some rest.

"You do too, you know," Andy said, pushing himself up off the couch and wrapping his arm around Harold's shoulder. "Sleeping in that chair before can't have been comfortable, and this couch really isn't doing it for me. Come on."

"Come on?" Harold asked as Andy steered him towards the stairs, feeling like he'd lost control of a situation that he'd perhaps never had control over; Andy often had that effect on him.

"We're going to sleep in my bed. It'll be alright," Andy said. "We're just going to sleep. Harold, excuse my phrasing, but you look like a deer in the headlights. Are you okay?"

"I just wasn't expecting...well, this," Harold said, as he gestured between them.

"Of course you weren't. You enjoy insulting my way of life too much to think you like me," Andy said laughing. "You'll have plenty of time to worry about it in the morning."

As the two of them slowly and carefully climbed the stairs, Harold reflected that he really, really would.


End file.
